


Storms

by AriaBlack28



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 10:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19149073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriaBlack28/pseuds/AriaBlack28
Summary: When you are Oliver Queen, you are so superficial that nothing affects you.When you are the Green Arrow, you are so tough that you don't allow anything to affect you.But when you are neither of them, at night, unshielded, there's no running from your nightmares anymore.





	Storms

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Tormentas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841281) by [AriaBlack28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriaBlack28/pseuds/AriaBlack28). 



> Heyy!! So this is my second work in english, which is not my first language so be kind, please :) If you spot any grammar/spelling mistakes please let me know!!
> 
> Also, this piece is in also available in Spanish for anyone interested ^^

     The stormy nights were, without any doubt, the worst ones. The bed, empty enough without her, seemed to transform into a sea of monsters and nightmares. A sea where he got lost every night since coming back from Lian Yu. A sea that, at least , had given him some rest while she was besides him.

     But there was no rest anymore. She wasn’t there anymore.

     Thunder cracked so close that it could almost make the lamps on the bedside tables vibrate. Almost. Lightning lit up the room, as if playing at being the disco ball of a club Oliver didn’t want to be in. Not alone, not without her. The bedsheets were suffocating and, at the same time, weren’t even close to being enough protection; they were useless against the storm, against the memories. He sit up, leaning back against the headboard, drenched in sweat that dripped down his chest. His body was trembling with cold, with rage, with sadness…

_Sarah, sinking in the dark ocean._

_His fathers body, gunshot in his head._

_Tommy, buried in the rubble, dead in his arms._

     Everything was his fault, everything. All of it; all of the deaths. Because of him… 

     This time he didn’t feel it. Didn’t feel the exact moment when his muscles became stiff. 

_Because he invited Sarah to the Queen’s Gambit._

     He was immobile, frozen in place by the storm raging inside him, competing wildly against the one hovering over the city to see which one was deadlier.

 _Because he was too scared to take the gun from his fathers hands._  

     The air was leaving the room by the moment, he couldn’t breath anymore. The walls started spinning like a Ferris wheel, a Ferris wheel that breaks from its axis and crushed everything in its way.

_Because he wasn’t fast enough in the subways tunnels. He couldn’t foresee Malcom’s plans._

     His ears were ringing. The corners of the room were getting darker, the furniture less defined, blurred… He was going to lose consciousness.

     - …iver, Oliver, Oliver. Come on Oli, focus. I’m here, I’m here. Come back to me, love.

     A familiar hand was placed on his cheek and the borders of the objects started focusing little by little. His ears were still ringing, but he could see the person in front of him, moving their lips. Were they talking to him? He closed his eyes for a second and that’s when the smell hit him: vanilla and sandalwood. The same scent that was still clinging to his bathroom walls (of course the bottle of shampoo was still on the shower shelf). Unmistakable. When he opened his eyes again, the familiar face was all he could see: blonde hair falling down to her shoulders, those blue orbs in which he used to get lost looking for some peace, her lips…

     He still couldn’t speak, it was hard to breath, but the look in his eyes told her all she needed to know: he was trying, he was coming back. The bed dipped, the pillow between his back and the headboard disappearing to be replaced with a warm body. Wrapping her arms around him, the blonde settled her head on his right shoulder and started whispering sweet nothings. But Oliver wasn’t listening; not yet. 

     Little by little, almost at the beat of the soft breath he could feel against his skin, started coming back. The muscles of his throat began relaxing, and for the first time that night, he uttered some words… well, he tried.

     - Felicity…

     - Shhh… No need to talk. Quiet, I’m here… I’m here.

     Oliver shut his eyes again, but this time wasn’t for necessity, the storm was not blinding, deafening anymore. This time, he was doing it to focus on Felicity’s heartbeat, a steady and calm rhythm, like a lullaby for his own. Their position was familiar; this whole process was familiar. Everything in her was familiar… Something he missed every second of every day. God, how many nights had they spent like that, in that same spot, him, too afraid to look as anything but a little kid; her, embracing his body, a mother protecting her child. 

     It was more than that, though, it had always been. Felicity wasn’t a mother, she wasn’t a friend, nor a ‘co-worker’. She had been his anchor for a long time, even before jumping into an under-the-covers relationship. With her witty comebacks and the verbal diarrea, she often served as the lighthouse to guide him, to guide the Green Arrow. 

     And suddenly, the light was turned off. And Oliver had to go back to sailing alone around the Chinese coastline, terrified, waiting the moment when he would arrive to that damn island. And it came every night. When he came ashore in Lian Yu again, even if it was only and illusion created by Morpheus, it was already too late. Darkness swallowed everything, just like it happened a moment ago. 

     - Love - the light was shining again, briefly - Oli, come on, are you feeling better? 

     Still breathing heavily, he could hear the slight buzz of a swarm of bees that was only living in his head; those he could ignore. He flexed his arms and legs, once, twice, checking if they could move properly again, before turning his head enough to look her in the eyes.

     - Felicity… - he was repeating her name like a mantra, like it was the only thing with enough coherence to make it out of his lips. 

     - When did the nightmares start again? - she was caressing his cheek softly. - And why haven’t you told me? 

     She wasn’t angry, not quite. There was just sadness in her voice, the sadness of someone who knows what it’s like to be in such a dark place that you can’t even distinguish your own thoughts; of someone who has lived a thousand nights stroking a body that was dissolving in tremors and tears; of someone who knows what guilt means. 

     - I… I didn’t want to bother you. I have no right to do so anymore. 

     - Us not being a couple doesn’t mean I’m not still your friend. It doesn’t mean that you can’t call me whenever you need to talk, or when you need to vent after a terrible day. - she paused, and sighed so deeply that Oliver’s whole body moved a bit. - Or when you need help with… _the nightmares_.

     They never talked about his nightmares. Didn’t in all the months they’ve been together, not even when they left him so damaged that couldn’t even leave the bedroom the next day. It wasn’t something he liked talking about, because they both knew they weren’t just dreams. Nightmares didn’t hit you like a hurricane and leave you breathless; they didn’t blow your eardrums hitting like bombs trying to destroy your memory. Normal dreams don’t come hand in hand with panic attacks and hallucinations. Felicity wasn’t stupid, she knew what was tearing Oliver apart pice by pice as if he was nothing more than a puzzle for little children. At the end of the day, it wasn’t that uncommon. One could see it in the eyes of the soldiers coming back from wars with a much heavier backpack than they had on their backs. You could guess it in the nervous tremble of massacre or accident survivors. It was heard in the whispers of abused women, raped, broken. 

     And even knowing so, they’d never say it out loud. Because a man like Oliver didn’t deserve living in the reality of all of it.

     - Why are you here, Felicity? 

     - Because you are not the only one that misses us, love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
